Resolution
by graytabby
Summary: Slash, HarryDraco. Hermione accidentally traps Harry and Draco together, and they discover that they don't find each other quite as detestable as they'd thought. Set in the school year following the epilogue of Deathly Hallows.


Harry had felt the familiar magic take hold as soon as he'd entered the old transfiguration classroom. He'd expected Professor Yarris to be in there, as presumably had the room's other occupant. The door had slammed behind him with a horrible finality. Some twenty minutes of frantic yelling and pounding on the unyielding door had brought first his daughter, then eventually Hermione to the other side.

"Oh god. Harry, it was supposed to be _Ron_ in there with you!"

Harry snarled at the door. "I swear, Hermione, next time I fight with Ron, I'm stealing your wand first."

"Harry, I'm sorry! I'll go get Neville, maybe he knows another way for you to get out." Harry heard Hermione's footsteps scurrying away on the other side, and he turned. It had been a good couple of decades since he'd been alone in a room with the other man, and Harry couldn't say he was delighted by the idea.

Malfoy hadn't spoken since the door slammed behind them, and now he merely raised a eyebrow in an elegant query.

"We're trapped in here, Malfoy."

Malfoy nodded. "Surprisingly enough, Potter, I worked that out myself when neither of us could open the door. What spell did Granger use, exactly?"

"It's an enchantment of sorts. She's used it on Ron and me when we've argued. It locks us in a room until we stop fighting and are friends again."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "Please tell me you're joking."

Harry slid down the door until he was sitting on the floor. He shrugged against the wood. "Nope."

Malfoy stared at him for a moment. After a moment, he seemed to regain his composure, and seated himself at one of the side table. Harry watched as Malfoy pulled one of the textbooks from the shelf and flipped it open, apparently able to become absorbed in NEWT-level charms theory instantly. Harry eyed Malfoy, careful to focus his gaze behind Malfoy's head in such a manner that he didn't appear to be staring. He wondered vaguely if Malfoy was ever going to put on weight--the man was still as slender as he'd been back in school, though his face now had more of the colour and warmth it had lacked as a teenager. Harry thought that, on the whole, Malfoy still looked unfairly young considering that the two of them were both approaching the age of forty.

Mind you, Harry had been more than a little vain that _he_ wasn't aging too badly, until he'd found his first white hair earlier that month. Ginny had teased him mercilessly for several days. Thankfully he'd plucked it out before Ron and Hermione had their chance to mock him too, and so far there'd only been the one. Hermione had, according to Ron, been colouring her hair to cover the grey since before she'd turned thirty.

On the other hand, Harry thought smugly, his hairline wasn't visibly receding like Malfoy's was.

"Harry?" said Neville through the door after a few minutes, breaking Harry's reverie.

Harry tipped his head back against the door, and said, "Yep?"

"We can't get the door to open. Sorry. Hermione's spell isn't something she can reverse. She's not explaining it much, to be honest."

"Not your fault." Harry wondered if there was something Dark about the magic involved, then concluded it was more likely that Hermione was being vague so he wouldn't be able to break it himself--she might still want to use this spell on him and Ron in the future, for a start. He made a mental note to _really_ throttle Hermione when he got out.

Neville, meanwhile, was still being optimistic on the other side of the door. "I'll try to get the apparition wards removed for this wing so you can get out, but it'll take a while--Hermione did say her spell might be augmenting those anyway."

Harry could cope with a little waiting, if it meant he didn't have to become best friends with Malfoy. "Cheers, Nev."

"When you do get out, try not to kill Hermione. Ron won't forgive you if you do. He's already defended her against Ginny."

Harry grunted, unwilling to promise anything right now. There was a crack, and one of the Hogwarts house-elves appeared with a basket. He handed it to Harry with a disapproving look, and vanished again. Harry flipped open the lid, curious to see what would provoke that reaction, and blinked. The food was a nice thought, but why was there _Firewhisky_ in there?

"Neville? You trying to get us drunk?"

"I thought it might help. In case you both fancy trying to get out by, well, making friends."

Harry rolled his eyes, and a movement in the corner of his vision suggested that Malfoy had turned on his seat to make a similar face at the suggestion. "Right, mate."

"You never know, it might be quicker than waiting for us to unravel the wards, Harry."

"Just go. And try to get Hermione to 'fess up on what this spell actually is."

"Will do."

He heard Neville's footsteps retreating down the corridor, and absently unscrewed the bottle top from the Firewhisky bottle. If he was going to be trapped in here with Malfoy for a while, he suspected he was going to need a drink. Come to think of it, Malfoy hadn't said anything at all--if he was going to stay this quiet, maybe this whole experience could be just about tolerable.

"Potter."

Or maybe that was wishful thinking. Harry took a swig from the bottle, and sighed. "What?"

Malfoy was looking thoughtful. "I know the chances of us making friends is slim, Potter. It's entirely possible that that's not even the terms of whatever curse Granger used." He gestured at the textbook he'd been reading. "Relationship states are fluid things, and so difficult to specify as specific concrete goals. The likeliest trigger, to my mind, would be that the attitudes of the people involved had to mirror ones from a specific time frame."

Harry frowned. "So you're saying, she can't just say 'be friends', it must be 'be like you were back at this point'." He thought for a moment. "Hmm, is there any chance this might not even involve you at all? Maybe it's just me and Ron, even without him in here."

Malfoy shook his head. "I doubt it." He turned on his seat, reached up and took down another book. "I couldn't open the door either, remember. And I think it'll be dependent on the people who are in here; otherwise it wouldn't trigger at all."

Harry nodded and stood up to peer at the book over Malfoy's shoulder. "You actually remember which textbooks this sort of thing is in?"

Malfoy gave Harry a disdainful look. "Some of us paid attention in class, yes." He grabbed the bottle from Harry's unresisting hand, placed it firmly at the back of the table, and pointed at the textbooks. "Start researching, Potter. I don't want to have to rely on Longbottom's skills with wards to get us out of here before next year."

Harry shrugged, and grabbed down a volume more or less at random.

After a good half an hour of reading about locking spells, Harry stretched, feeling his muscles complain. Malfoy glanced at him, but didn't say anything. Harry paced up and down between the desks, trying to work the cramp out of his legs.

"How's your research going? I'm drawing a blank, to be honest."

"Potter, are you incapable of studying for longer than ten minutes at a time?"

"Pretty much, yeah," said Harry.

Malfoy glared at him, and then slammed his book shut. "Fine. In that case, tell me something--on the off-chance it's time-specific, what sort of point in time Granger would have picked?"

"Not a clue." Harry grinned at the way Malfoy ground his teeth together in annoyance. It was still fun to irritate him, after all this time. "She first used it on us the first summer after school ended."

"How often does she do this?"

"About once a year or so. One year, she did it about seven times." As Malfoy blinked, Harry felt the need to explain. "Ron and I argue a lot, but we're still mates."

"Because Granger hexes you back into friendship," Malfoy sniffed, and reached for the bottle of Firewhisky. He wiped the rim of the bottle with his sleeve, and took a long drink.

Harry shook his head. "It's not like that. We're both kind of dumb and stubborn at times. Hermione's good at knocking our heads together."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at Harry. "Intriguing as this glimpse into the Golden Trio's dynamic is, it doesn't help us much. What time frame does Granger think of when she thinks of you and the weasel as having a good friendship?"

Harry leaned against one of the desks, and frowned. "I don't honestly know. She used it on us not long after the end of the war, the first time; maybe it's looking for the same sort of state as Ron and I had when we were in Hogwarts."

Malfoy looked mildly horrified. "I sincerely hope that Granger hasn't been emotionally retarding you and the Weasel into a schoolboy state all these years. That verges on abuse, Potter."

Harry shrugged. "If she has, and you and I need to emulate our relationship state at that point, then I'd better start hating you pretty quickly." He saw a flash of something in Malfoy's eyes--surprise?--and grinned wryly. "Oh, I stopped hating you ages ago, Malfoy. No energy for it these days. But in school--"

Malfoy laughed bitterly. "True. Even before the war, we were vicious."

Harry nodded, and something occurred to him. He heaved himself up to sit on the desk he'd been leaning on. "Do you tell your son about that? I've been pretty careful about telling my kids about how bad it all got--I don't want them to think it's okay to be as dumb as we all were, war or no war."

"Dumb?"

Harry waved a hand vaguely. "The petty rivalry. The escalation into violence. You broke my nose at one point, and I sliced you open with a spell. None of which are things I'd like my own children to go through."

"You did also save my life." Malfoy leaned forward, and extended the bottle towards Harry in a gesture that seemed almost apologetic.

Harry grinned, and leaned forward to snag the bottle. "I'd rather my kids didn't need saving."

"Fair enough." Malfoy leaned back. "To answer your question, no, I don't tell Scorpius about how much the great Harry Potter and I detested the sight of each other." Harry shot him a confused look, and Malfoy smirked. "Potter, you're the hero of the wizarding world. I don't think my son is quite ready to hear that the boy-who-lived and I were archenemies. He's only dimly aware that I was on the wrong side."

Harry pulled a sour face. "Ugh. Even your son thinks I'm some big hero?"

Malfoy gave Harry a strange look. "You really do hate that, don't you?"

"God, yes. Wouldn't you?"

They'd consumed half of the bottle and had talked--carefully, with lots of edging around more sensitive topics--for a good hour by the time they heard Ginny's voice outside.

"Harry? Are you okay in there?"

Harry winced a little at the plain concern in Ginny's voice. Ginny clearly expected him and Malfoy to be hurling hexes at each other. "Yeah, we're fine. How's Neville doing with those wards?"

"I called Kingsley--they're having problems working out the snarls in the blocks and I figured he might know a decent wardworker. I nearly killed Hermione, though."

Harry grinned. "How are the kids doing?"

"They're bored, actually."

"Just take them home, Gin." Harry tried to work out what time it was. "If they're having this much trouble, it's not likely I'll be out of here before tomorrow morning."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, don't worry. You can owl Neville if you need to get a message to me, right?"

"Okay." There was a pause, and Harry wondered if she'd left, for a moment. "Malfoy? You hex my husband, I hex you, are we clear?"

"Crystal, Mrs Potter," said Malfoy smoothly.

"Excellent."

Harry shot Malfoy an apologetic look. Malfoy, to his surprise, looked amused.

"Looks like your wife doesn't think of you as the big invulnerable hero, at least."

"That's why I married her." Harry smiled towards the door. "That and the fact she's hot."

Malfoy laughed, and took another drink from the bottle.

The bottle was long-since empty, and Harry and Malfoy had been chatting fairly freely for quite a while, both now quite honest about their fears and motives during the war. Harry was a little surprised to discover that Malfoy was _easy_ to talk to. Once you got past the arrogance and the vanity, at least.

Malfoy frowned at the empty bottle. "How much of this did you have, Potter?"

Harry waved his hand vaguely. "Probably a little more than half. Not enough to get really drunk on. Why, are you feeling tipsy?"

"Not as tipsy as I'd like, if I'm honest. This can't be full-strength, or we'd both be far less coherent by now." Malfoy wandered over to the basket, and opened it. "Food. Bleah." He dug about in the basket, and then grinned triumphantly. "Aha, more alcohol. Nicely done, Longbottom."

Harry wondered why Malfoy would be so eager to get drunk. After a moment, it occurred to him to just ask.

"Any particular reason you want to get hammered? I mean, assuming my presence isn't quite reason enough."

"_Your_ wife came to check on you, Potter. My wife, as you may have noticed, didn't bother." Malfoy twisted the top off the bottle, and stared down into the bottle. Harry stared at the top of Malfoy's bowed head for a moment, and then walked back to his seat.

"Trouble at the Manor, huh?" Harry tried to keep his voice as casual as possible.

"No more than usual." Malfoy didn't seem angry, thought Harry. Just sort of resigned. Malfoy looked up, and something in Harry's expression made him roll his eyes. "Don't you dare start looking at me like you pity me. Astoria and I weren't ever exactly head-over-heels; it's just a little galling that she can't even feign enough concern for me to come ask me if I'm unhexed."

"Why'd you marry her, anyway? We all thought you'd end up with Parkinson."

"Ugh." Malfoy pulled a face. "Only Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs marry the girls they make out with in school. Slytherins prefer wait until they've had a little more time to consider all the options first. Astoria's a better match politically. Besides, Pansy'd be a little too sharp a reminder of my behaviour in those last few years at Hogwarts, I think."

"Marrying the girl I made out with in school worked out great for me."

Malfoy snorted. "Gryffindor. It's that stupid loyalty thing, right?"

Harry decided to steer the topic onto slightly less painful ground. "Enh, if I was that stupidly loyal I'd have stuck things out with Cho."

"Huh." Malfoy seemed to relax, and took a meditative drink. "The Ravenclaw seeker, right? Your first--well, whatever?"

"Yeah. Just a kiss, mind you. And it was dreadful."

"Ah." Malfoy took another swig, and then held the bottle out to Harry as he added, "my first kiss wasn't Pansy, if we're sharing. It was a girl from Beauxbatons, in the summer before second year. I doubt you'd know her. But it was pretty bad too, to be honest."

"Huh." Harry took the bottle, and looked at it thoughtfully. "Wonder if anyone's first kiss is decent."

"Of course they are. I was Pansy's first kiss and I can assure you it was more than satisfactory for her."

Harry glanced over at Malfoy's smug grin. "Oh, well, there goes that theory then. Maybe I was just unlucky with Cho."

"Maybe. Next question, then. Was the Weaselette your first, uh, more than just a kiss?"

"_Ginny_, yes." Harry saw Malfoy start to smirk, and cut him off before he could ask. "Yes, first and only ever."

"Merlin. That right there, that's the Gryffindor loyalty thing I was talking about."

"Again, it worked out great for me."

Harry drank, and realised Malfoy was looking at him speculatively.

"What?"

"Potter, you were the Chosen One. The girls must have been queuing up. Did you ever even fancy anyone except Cho and the Weaselette?"

Harry shrugged, not quite sure what Malfoy was getting at. "Uh, sure."

"Who? Brown? Abbott?"

"A couple of the Ravenclaws. Angelina Johnson, for a while."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes, and leaned forward, snagging back the bottle. "I wasn't in Slytherin for nothing, Potter. I can tell you're evading something."

Harry shrugged again. If he was evading anything, it was only that he'd been mostly uninterested in _anyone_ at Hogwarts. Somehow the war had overshadowed everything; Ginny'd speculated more than once that if she _hadn't_ been his best friends' sister, Harry would never have spent enough time around her to find her attractive either.

Malfoy coughed. "We're still trapped."

"Yep."

"Feel particularly friendly or hateful towards me?"

"Friendlier than I expected," admitted Harry.

"Indeed." Malfoy went to try the door. "No go. Shall we try invoking hatred, then?"

Malfoy sighed theatrically and turned to aim his wand at Harry. He didn't seem to have reckoned on Harry's auror instincts, however; Harry _expelliarmus_ed the wand from Malfoy's hand mid-movement without even standing up. The wand clattered to the floor near Harry's feet.

"That's really not a good idea, Malfoy. Especially not if you're going to telegraph moves like that. I already took one wand from you before, remember?"

Malfoy's face flushed a little, and, crossing the room, he knelt down to pick up his wand. "What do you suggest then? Fun as it is to sit here and reminisce, some of us would like to leave this room at some point."

Harry took another drink. "And you think you're able to make me feel the same way as I did about you back in Hogwarts? Sorry, Malfoy, I don't think that's likely."

Malfoy stared up at him, then rose gracefully, taking a seat on the desk opposite Harry.

"I think I'd have trouble too. For a start, you're not nearly as annoying now that Voldemort's not whispering poison into my ears or my father's ears."

"And you don't piss me off as much now that Snape's not favouring you to get back at my dad."

Malfoy blinked. Harry realise it might be necessary to elaborate a little further, and explained, "Snape was in love with my mum, plus my dad used to pick on him. He hated the sight of me because I looked like my dad; that's partly why he had it in for me through school."

A look of utter fascination crossed Malfoy's face, but he merely asked, "Your mother--is that why he spied for the Order?"

Harry nodded.

"Interesting."

"Why did you think he was spying for them?"

"Not a clue. I thought he was sleeping with Dumbledore, to be completely honest."

Harry choked a little at that. "Ugh, thanks for that image."

Malfoy grinned wolfishly. "Horrible, isn't it?"

"I actually wondered if he was shagging your dad for a while." Malfoy choked at that, and it was Harry's turn to smirk. "Similar reasoning, I think, before you hit me. It seemed like Snape should have been shagging _someone_. Poor bastard."

Malfoy took the bottle, took a very slow _sip_ of the whisky, and shot Harry a guarded, hesitant, look. "He turned me down, you know."

"Gyah, you offered?"

"In that last year, yeah. He saved my life, he persuaded Voldemort not to kill me, it seemed like the least I could do to thank him."

"You tried to thank a teacher for saving your life by offering him a shag? That seems pretty.. uh, Slytherin, I guess."

"Professor Snape _was_ a Slytherin, or had you forgotten?"

"True. I think I'm relieved to hear that he turned you down, though." Harry chuckled at a sudden thought, and wondered if he dare actually share it with Malfoy. When the blond raised his eyebrow curiously, Harry admitted, "the sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, and Snape saved my life on several occasions."

Malfoy looked shocked. Harry thought he found that rather gratifying.

"You, a Slytherin? And you told the hat to put you elsewhere? Why?"

Harry took another swig. "At that point, I'd met two wizards--you and Ron--and Ron wanted to be in Gryffindor and you wanted to be in Slytherin. And you were an odious little twat, to be blunt."

"Ah." Malfoy looked almost wistful. "Though I suppose the war might have gone differently if you'd been in Slytherin."

"Let's not think down that particular path, shall we?"

They sank into silence for a moment. Harry, despite himself, found himself wondering what it _would_ have been like to be a Slytherin. Without the war and political issues, it might not have been too bad. He wasn't sure if he'd have been happy there exactly, but he might have learned how to deal with his fame at a younger age.

"I didn't offer _you_ sex when you saved my life for several reasons, by the way," said Malfoy after a while, in a brightly conversational tone.

"Oh?"

Malfoy nodded, and held up a hand, lifting one finger. "Firstly, your tastes seemed to run to girls." He held up a second finger. "Secondly, you Gryffindors get all weird about sex as a transaction." He held up another finger, and smirked at Harry. "And thirdly, ew."

Harry laughed. "Thanks."

"Don't get me wrong, you're pretty enough. But you'd probably have wanted to top, and I don't do that."

Harry blinked. There was something unsettling about Malfoy having thought about this in any detail. He glanced down at the bottle--this one was now half empty--and moved it meaningfully away from Malfoy. "Okay, when you start telling me I'm pretty, that's time to cut you off."

"Coward."

Harry began to make a joking protest, but Malfoy's expression remained serious. Harry's joke stuck in his throat, realisation dawning that the man was issuing both a challenge and an invitation. Malfoy very deliberately licked his lips, his eyes still locked on Harry's, and Harry's groin tightened. He tore his gaze away, blushing furiously. Dammit, Harry'd thought Malfoy wasn't nearly as pretty now as he'd been as a boy, but apparently his libido disagreed.

"Potter," Malfoy began, stretching one hand out towards Harry.

"Shut it, Malfoy." Harry stared down at the bottle, rubbing the label with his thumbnail. If Malfoy was serious, then--but he might only be doing it to humiliate Harry somehow.

"Ah. Now you sound just like you did in school." Malfoy withdrew his hand, stood up, and stretched gracefully. He tried the door again, and then shrugged. "Still locked, though."

"You expected it to open?"

"Worth a try." Malfoy turned, and gave Harry an assessing look. He strode over, took the bottle from Harry, and gently set it to the side. Harry followed the movement of the bottle, not paying enough attention to Malfoy's other hand--which neatly slid under Harry's chin, tilting Harry's face up as Malfoy leaned down to kiss him. Harry, surprised, opened his mouth instinctively and felt Malfoy's tongue slide into his mouth, tangling with his tongue languidly. He had enough time to register that he was _kissing Malfoy of all people_ before Malfoy pulled away, grinning in an infuriatingly smug fashion.

"What the hell, Malfoy?" Harry managed to force his voice to sound relatively calm, he thought, considering how panicked he was by the way his cock had responded. If only he'd worn robes--but even Malfoy'd worn Muggle-style clothing today.

Malfoy backed towards the door, still grinning in that irritating fashion, and pushed down the handle. The door, somewhat to Harry's relief, didn't open. He had the satisfaction of seeing Malfoy's grin fade, to be replaced by a nonplussed expression. Harry rallied somewhat.

"Are we still aiming for feelings we had in Hogwarts? Because I think I'd have remembered us snogging."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "You did fancy me back then, though."

Harry sighed. He didn't really have the energy to come up with a plausible denial, not after that kiss. "Alright, yes. I was a teenager, and you were sort of girly looking, and you were always staring at me."

"I _knew_ it."

Harry held up a hand. "Ah ah. I still wanted to kill you more, though."

Malfoy walked back towards Harry, and grabbed the bottle again. Harry forced himself not to flinch as Malfoy's hand grazed his knee, or to lean back when Malfoy sat on the desk directly opposite him. The git was only trying to tease him, no point in giving him the satisfaction of seeing that it was working.

Malfoy took a swig, and gave Harry another assessing look. "So, who else?"

"Huh?"

"Which other guys did you fancy? I'm not going to flatter myself it was just me."

"Uh," said Harry, his mind blank for a moment. Was it worth denying--no, it probably wasn't, at this point. "Cedric Diggory. Oliver Wood. Um, the Weasley twins. Bill too, before the accident."

Malfoy looked amused. "Does your wife know you fancied so many of her siblings?"

"Yeah, right. But never Ron, before you ask."

Malfoy seemed to be making calculations in his head, and snorted at Ron's name. "That's a longer list than the girls you reeled off earlier, Potter."

Harry shrugged. "Guys didn't have all those weird romantic ideas of what the-boy-who-lived should be like. Not that I did anything about it. And I love Ginny--I really do--so it doesn't matter much anyway."

Malfoy tipped his head to one side, and handed Harry the bottle. "Tell me, was that--just now--the first time you've kissed a guy?"

Harry nodded, amused. "Congratulations, Malfoy. First time I've kissed anyone other than Ginny since Hogwarts, too."

"Merlin, you're so appallingly pure. I'd slept with both Blaise and Nott by the end of fourth year."

Harry tipped the bottle up, and finished off what was left. "Slytherins, huh. Us Gryffindors were mostly virgins until after OWLs--or at least, I think most of us were."

"Freaks, the lot of you. We always suspected as much." Malfoy looked at the empty bottle, and then up at Harry. "Actually, that's a lie. _Pansy_ thought you and the Weasel were double-teaming Granger."

"Are you trying to make me punch you, Malfoy?"

"Why, is it working?"

"Not especially."

Malfoy swept his hand through his hair and made a grumbling noise, and then frowned at Harry. "Why aren't you having a big Gryffindor guilt trip over kissing me, out of interest?"

Harry blinked. That was a damned good question. "For a start, you kissed me, not the other way around."

"And if your wife knew you hadn't minded as much as you really should?"

Harry shrugged. "She'd never believe it." That was the crux of it, really. She wouldn't believe it unless she saw it--or unless Harry admitted it to her--so there wasn't much chance of there being any repercussions. Which meant, a small voice in the back of his head whispered insistently, that he could probably do it again.

A gurgle from his stomach reminded him that he might not be thinking with a full set of morals at this point. He'd better get some food in on top of that whisky, or he'd be regretting it in the morning. Pushing himself off the desk, he wandered over to the basket, aware of Malfoy's thoughtful gaze the whole way. He knelt, and pulled out some of the food from the basket onto the cloth it had been covered with.

"We're out of booze," said Malfoy sulkily, behind him.

"Aren't you at all hungry?"

"No, I like being drunk. Potter, let me see if I have this correct. You're _not_ going to go running off to your wife to admit you kissed a man?"

Harry shook his head distractedly, peering into the basket, and then felt Malfoy tug hard at the back of his collar, yanking him upright. He turned, and Malfoy kissed him again. This time Harry wasn't taken off guard, and he slid his arms around Malfoy's waist, pulling their bodies firmly together. Malfoy made an indignant noise, and scrabbled at the back of Harry's neck as Harry pushed Malfoy back against the nearest desk. Harry's cock had hardened again, and he angled his body so that his erection pressed against Malfoy's as they kissed. After a moment of rather delicious writhing, Malfoy seemed to snap, and he bit Harry's lower lip hard. Harry released Malfoy, who fell back against edge of the desk, and Harry grinned at the furious expression on his face.

"Potter, what the hell?"

"You started it, Malfoy." Harry removed his glasses and tossed them to the desk beside Malfoy carelessly. "I might not have kissed a guy before, but I'll be damned if I'll let you lead this little dance." He reached up a hand to run his fingers through Malfoy's hair.

Malfoy closed his eyes, and leaned into the caress.

Harry grinned. "I've been wanting to touch your hair for a long time." He bent forward, pushing Malfoy back against the desk, and kissed him again.

This time, Malfoy opened his mouth and sucked Harry's tongue into his mouth before swirling his tongue around Harry's, sliding his hands up Harry's back sensuously. Harry growled through the kiss, and pulled at Malfoy's legs until the blond took the hint and wrapped them around Harry's hips. Harry lifted Malfoy up and forward, so that the desk bore most of his weight, and pushed forwards. Harry's cock seemed to swell even further at the new angle of friction, and he moaned into Malfoy's mouth. Malfoy broke the kiss, and thrust his hands under Harry's shirt, yanking the fabric upwards so that Harry was forced to release Malfoy and allow him to pull off the shirt. He bent back down towards Malfoy, but the slender man twisted away from the kiss and instead ran his tongue around Harry's left nipple.

"Merlin," gasped Harry, as he bucked against Malfoy's groin.

"You'd better not come just dry-humping me, Potter," muttered Malfoy into Harry's neck, and he scraped his nails down Harry's back so that Harry hissed and arched his back. "You'll come when I'm fucking you, or not at all."

"You still--" Harry gasped, thrusting his hand down Malfoy's trousers, "--still think it'll be that way round?" He wrapped his hand around Malfoy's cock, and began to pump at it determinedly.

Malfoy _clawed_ at Harry's back, and then shoved him upright. Harry staggered backwards, and looked at Malfoy--clothes wrinkled, hair mussed, lips bruised, the outline of his swollen cock visible through his trousers--the man had never looked better, to Harry's mind.

Malfoy pushed himself into a sitting position, and deliberately, button by button, unfastened Harry's trousers. Harry grinned, and pushed them--and the boxers beneath--down, carefully freeing his erection to point firmly at Malfoy. Malfoy stared at it for a moment, and then looked directly into Harry's eyes as he slowly, deliberately began to remove his own clothes. Harry held the look, but stepped forward and wrapped his fist around Malfoy's cock as soon as Malfoy's underwear was discarded.

Malfoy sank back onto the desk, threw his head back, and moaned deeply. Harry bit his lip. No, _now_ Malfoy had never looked better, utterly debauched on a classroom desk, eyes closed, moaning as Harry stroked at his cock.

"_Fuck_, Malfoy."

Malfoy opened his eyes, propped himself up on his elbows and fixed Harry with a very intense look. "Oh, I intend to." He glanced down at where Harry's hand was still moving around him, and bit his lower lip. "I hate to say stop, but stop for a moment." Harry obeyed, confused. Malfoy sat up on the desk, and gestured at the tangle of trouser and underwear currently pooled around Harry's ankles. "You're still partly dressed, for a start."

Harry chuckled, and obligingly removed the remains of his clothing. Standing again, he ran his hand along the scar on Malfoy's chest apologetically. Malfoy scowled at the gesture and grabbed at Harry's hand, tugging Harry to stand between his knees. Harry shivered as Malfoy ran one hand down the side of Harry's torso and onto his hip, lightly. "I mean it, you know," Malfoy murmured, brushing his lips against Harry's ear. Harry tensed as Malfoy's hand slid further around, gently brushing the cleft of his buttocks. "And I know what I'm doing when I'm on top. Please?"

Harry closed his eyes, and nodded silently into Malfoy's hair. Malfoy twisted around, to Harry's surprise, and dug about in his clothing. Grabbing his wand, he tapped Harry's hand twice, muttering a charm Harry didn't quite hear. Harry's hand suddenly began to glisten with a slick, clear fluid--it seemed to seep from his fingers and palm. Harry rubbed his fingers together curiously, until Malfoy grabbed that hand and placed it firmly back on his cock. Harry tentatively wrapped his hand around Malfoy's length. Malfoy forced Harry's hand to move up and down, until Harry realised what Malfoy was getting at and spread the lubricant from base to tip as evenly as he could. Soon, Malfoy batted Harry's hand away.

"It's far too good watching you do that to me. You'd better stop now before I lose it."

He sat up, and gently but firmly pushed at Harry's hips so that Harry turned where he stood. Harry felt Malfoy slide off the desk, and push him forward towards the desk ahead of them. "Please?" Malfoy said again, so gently that Harry wondered if Malfoy was expecting him to change his mind.

Harry let Malfoy push him down against the desk, wondering if it was just the firewhisky that was making him _trust_ Malfoy this way. He heard Malfoy stand behind him, and whisper another charm--this one sounded a little different--and then he felt something slick slide between his buttocks and probe at his entrance. He tensed, instinctively.

"Harry, relax. Please." Malfoy cooed into Harry's ear. Harry shivered, and did his best to stop tensing up. He felt Malfoy's--finger, it must be--slide deeper into him, gently probing, and very slippery. It wasn't astonishingly wonderful, but neither did it hurt like he'd been expecting, and he relaxed more fully. The finger withdrew after a while, and after another muttered charm, Malfoy slid something wider--two fingers?--into him, and this time gently spread them apart, stretching him. It felt deeply, deeply weird, and almost verging on painful.

"Aaah," he managed. Malfoy's fingers stilled inside him, and Harry felt the man waiting patiently for a sign that he could continue. After a moment, he pushed back against Malfoy hand, craving motion, and Malfoy's fingers began moving again, more insistently this time. They brushed against _something_, and Harry's entire body _twitched_ as a wave of pleasure shot through him. He felt Malfoy chuckle very quietly behind him, as if amusd by his reaction, and whisper yet another charm. The fingers withdrew almost reluctantly, and Harry felt Malfoy shift behind him, pressing something larger against him. He forced himself to stay relaxed.

"Harry," Malfoy muttered. "Fuck, you're gorgeous." Malfoy began to push into him, and Harry almost forgot to breathe as Malfoy's cock _slid_ slowly inside. He hissed involuntarily--it wasn't painful, exactly, but it felt like the angle wasn't quite right--and Malfoy stopped immediately, and whispered gentle soothing nonsense into Harry's ear until Harry shifted his hips to what felt like a more natural angle, and pushed back deliberately onto Malfoy's cock--he had the distinct sensation of stretching himself open on it--until Malfoy was fully sheathed inside him.

"Fuck," said Malfoy breathlessly, but he stayed motionless, draped along Harry's back, much to Harry's relief. The sensation of being _filled_ was overwhelming enough without adding friction into it. He could feel Malfoy's cock _twitching_ inside him. He took a ragged breath after a moment, and turned his head towards Malfoy.

"Move, Malfoy," he muttered when he felt he could manage words.

Malfoy lifted himself up, curled his hands firmly around Harry's waist, and rocked his hips gently towards Harry. Harry gasped at the flood of sensation, and clawed at the table for purchase.

"My, _Potter_, you are sensitive." Malfoy's voice had an amused purr to it, and Harry almost began to form a protest when he felt Malfoy slide partway out and then insistently _in_ again. All Harry could manage in response was occasional gasps. After what seemed like an eternity of tantalisingly slow movement, Harry managed to moan 'faster', which seemed to be the signal Malfoy needed to begin thrusting _harder_ as well as more swiftly. After a few thrusts, he shifted against Harry, and the angle of his thrusts changed so that he was brushing that same spot that had made Harry spasm before. Harry gasped, and bucked backwards against Malfoy, and Malfoy responded by pounding that spot inside Harry until Harry thought he was about to see stars.

"Fuck, Harry, I can't last much longer," Malfoy gasped into Harry's ear. "Touch yourself for me?"

Harry wriggled his arm down, and pushed back against Malfoy hard so his cock wasn't pressed up against the desk. He began to pump at himself furiously as Malfoy slammed into him. It only took a matter of a few seconds before Harry came, gasping, splattering the floor beneath him and feeling himself contract around Malfoy. Malfoy made an extraordinary sound, like someone choking, and he thrust wildly as his cock spasmed inside Harry.

Malfoy collapsed against Harry's back, panting. Harry felt his knees trembling to hold his weight and Malfoy's, and he grabbed the far edge of the desk before he fell. Malfoy pushed himself up after a minute, and gently slid himself out of Harry, and then _his_ knees seemed to give way and he sank to the floor, apparently exhausted. Harry let go of the desk, and joined Malfoy on the floor in a graceless heap.

"Merlin," muttered Malfoy. "That was almost worth waiting decades for."

Harry laughed, and shifted his weight a little so that he could sit up, wincing a little. He kissed Malfoy gently on the cheek, amused by the look of consternation on Malfoy's face.

"Don't go all post-coitally soppy on me, Gryffindor," said Malfoy, suspiciously.

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Harry airily. "_Draco_." Malfoy glared at him, and Harry smirked. "You called me Harry. It's only fair I get to do the same."

Malfoy scowled, though Harry realised there was no venom to that expression now, and reached up for his wand. He tossed Harry his glasses and cast a cleaning charm on himself. Harry replaced his glasses as Malfoy--No, _Draco_--then cast a couple of cleaning charms on him and tossed him some of his discarding clothing. He redressed lazily, watching Draco and enjoying the gracefulness with which Draco managed to imbue even _getting dressed_.

"Harry," said Draco, as he rebuttoned his shirt, Harry's eyes watching his fingers intently, "not to sound like a girl, or worse, a Hufflepuff, but what happens with us now?"

"Hmm?" managed Harry, and then his brain caught up with Draco's words. "What do you mean?"

Draco approached, and, with a fierce look on his face, kissed Harry. Harry willingly kissed Draco back, and Harry's pulse quickened as Draco pressed himself along Harry's body. Draco pulled back again after a minute, and stared at Harry wordlessly.

Harry blinked, unsure what response to give. "Draco, what do you want to happen?"

"Sex," said Draco simply. "As often as possible. I don't care if you're married, or if I am, or any of the rest of it."

Harry gently pushed Draco away, and sat back on the desk. "Er, Draco, you might not care, but I do still love my wife."

"You love her, but you'll bend over a table and let me fuck you senseless?"

"Uh. Yeah." Harry scratched at his head, somewhat unsure how to explain himself. He decided to go for the truth. "Honestly, I'd probably do it again, too. But I can't leave my family."

Draco gaped at him. "Gryffindor. Did I ask you to _leave_ her?"

Harry blinked. "So you're asking me for--an affair? You want me to cheat on her with you?"

"Frequently and enthusiastically, yes." Draco moved closer to Harry and put his arms around Harry's neck, looking surprisingly vulnerable.

Harry stared at Draco, surprised that the man would admit to desiring anything resembling a relationship. He thought of Ginny--she'd be hurt enough by what he'd done already. Especially since it was _Draco Malfoy_. If this became more than a one-off, something not explainable by a flood of hormones and some firewhisky, there'd be no chance of forgiveness from her.

What was wrong with him? He should be feeling incredibly guilty right now. Ginny was the mother of his children, and his wife, and his love. Draco was none of those. Draco was--exciting, and provided a flood of sensation and tangled emotions that made Harry's spine tingle. Why couldn't he have both of them, if the opportunity was there? He closed his eyes, kissed Draco softly, and heard himself saying, "alright."

Draco's whole body seemed to relax. "Thank Merlin for that. I don't think I could cope with the thought of never doing that again."

"The feeling's mutual." As Draco stepped back to grab his wand from the desk, Harry idly tried the door again. The handle moved freely, and Harry stared at it in disbelief.

"Uh," he said, baffled. "It's open."

Draco span, and they both glanced around the classroom--if anyone saw it now, they'd have a lot of explaining to do. Harry began to shovel the food--and the empty bottles--back into the basket, while Draco cast various cleaning and freshening charms.

Harry opened the door, and peered out into the corridor. "Hermione?" He stepped outside. "Neville?" Nobody was visible in the corridor. Harry ducked his head back into the classroom, to see Draco carefully replacing the textbooks on the shelf. "Nobody's here; shall we head up to the headmaster's office?"

Draco nodded, then frowned at Harry. Stepping forward, he raked the fingers of his free hand through Harry's hair, ruffling it gently. "Circe, Harry, how on earth is your hair _neater_ now than it was earlier?"

Harry asked the gargoyle to let Neville know they were waiting to get in.

"Harry," muttered Draco, as they waited. "How do we explain getting out of that room? We can't explain what we were doing when the door locked."

Harry shrugged. "Feign ignorance, let Hermione come to her own conclusions. She'll try to find an explanation that doesn't make her uncomfortable or angry, most of the time. It's worked for Ron more times than you'd believe."

The stone moved, and Harry and Draco walked up the stairs into Neville's office.

"Harry!" Hermione hugged him eagerly as they entered. "Oh god, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, 'Mione," Harry said wryly. "We didn't hex each other to death after all. What the _hell_ is that spell, anyway?"

"It's a resolution spell," Neville said from behind Hermione. "Doesn't unlock until you've put aside all conflict or forgiven each other completely."

Hermione stared at Harry, and let go. "How on _earth_ did you and Draco get out?"

"We talked," offered Draco. "A lot. There was firewhisky."

Hermione sniffed at Harry's breath suspiciously. "Ugh, how much did you drink?"

"Two bottles, between us." Harry grinned at Hermione's expression. "It wasn't very strong, actually--house-elf strength, I guess? It was enough to get us talking, though, so points to Neville."

"We almost had the warding worked out," said Neville. "It would have taken a few hours longer to get them down, though."

Draco coughed, and held out his hand to Harry. "Potter. I think I shall floo home to my family now, if nobody has any objections."

Harry took Draco's hand and shook it firmly, hiding a smirk as Draco's fingers fluttered against his palm. "I think we can dispense with the formality, Draco. I'd like to consider you a friend--tentatively, at least."

Draco smiled, and said "Very well, _Harry_." He turned to Neville, and they shook hands genially, Draco then extended a hand to Hermione. "My apologies to you, Mrs Granger-Weasley, for any offence or harm I may have caused you in the past."

Hermione looked dumbstruck, and snuck an incredulous look at Harry. "Uh, Malfoy, did Harry hit you on the head down there?" She folded her arms. "I don't think I'm quite ready to shake your hand yet, even if Harry seems to be okay with it."

Draco nodded, apparently neither surprised or offended, and withdrew his hand gracefully. "Well, consider the apology open." He nodded at Harry and Neville, and strode over to the fireplace. He tossed in some floo powder from the bowl on the mantel, and said 'Malfoy Manor' clearly before stepping into the flames.

Hermione turned to Harry as soon as Draco had gone, and thumped him hard on the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You and Draco Malfoy, suddenly _friends_? In just a few hours? What the hell? It usually takes you and Ron longer than that just to stop yelling."

"We're adults, 'Mione. We talked." Harry looked over Hermione's head, and saw Neville looking equally unconvinced. He sighed, and ventured, "We drank the firewhisky, and then talked some more. About Hogwarts, and the war, and how neither of us wants our kids to have to go through that sort of thing."

"Oh."

"Satisfied now?"

"I suppose." She hugged him again. "I'm still sorry."

"So you should be. Did Ron take the kids home?"

"To the Burrow, actually. He left when Ginny did."

"Will you let Ron and I both sulk for a while this time? I don't fancy being locked in a room against my will again any time soon, and maybe it's time we got over our problems in our own sweet time. Besides which, he's _wrong_."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine. _Boys_." She walked over to the fireplace. "On that note, I should be getting home. Neville? Thanks for your help. I'll come by after the holiday and we can make sure we've got a good grip on how to put up and pull down all the wards more easily in future."

"Absolutely. See you next month, 'Mione."

"And I'll see you at the Burrow in a few days, I guess, Harry." He nodded as Hermione stepped into the grate, and waved as she vanished.

Harry glanced up at the clock on the wall, and smiled at Neville wearily. "Probably time I got home too, mate."

"Harry?" said Neville, casually stepping up to the fire as Harry did, and weighing a handful of floo powder in his palm thoughtfully. "You really resolved _all_ your issues with Malfoy? And he resolved all of his with you?"

"Yeah," said Harry. He could sense the accusation coming, and he wasn't quite sure how he'd respond to it. Probably best to play it innocent for as long as possible. "Why?"

Neville flashed Harry a knowing look. "Just as well you don't fancy him any more, then." He tossed the powder into the floo, said 'Potter residence', and gave the astonished Harry a gentle push forward into the flames. Harry whirled, astonished, as the flames flared up around him.

"And I'll stick to that line," said Neville wryly, as he faded from Harry's sight.

---- __

Author's note:  
This started as one-shot PWP, and then sort of expanded. There's enough extra plot kicking around in my head for a couple of sequels, even. And yeah, everyone is kind of low on the morality scale here. 


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